The Kiss Thief
by Theialyn
Summary: When life does not offer love, you have to take it for yourself. A story of Persephone.
1. The Obsessive

**The Obsessive: Part One of _The Kiss Thief_**

_part one. A Fight to End All Fights_

The first kiss Persephone stole was from her husband. He came to tell her that he would not be joining her for lunch. He had told her this four days in a row. That, and the knowledge that there had been a beautiful brunette in the foyer that morning, fed Persephone's discontent. The fight had begun then, a raging torrent of words. She doused her husband with the frustration she had accumulated and realised that this argument meant her marriage really was failing. Once, she would have trusted him, and once, he would have been hurt if she did not. When he stepped closer, anger in his voice, hands gesturing, it became apparent that there was no undercurrent of desire between them, only anger.

It was then that Persephone reached out and brought their mouths together. She kept her hands on his face only to keep him still. This was a kiss he had not wanted her to take. This kiss she stole, so he could never give it to the brown-haired woman. She took everything he had. She drained him. As soon as she released him, he had turned and was walking out the door.

She did not care.

_part two. A Total and Resounding Failure_

And so it began.

The next kiss had come from an associate of her husband's. Persephone watched him all through lunch. He was a smooth talker, confident, arrogant, the sort of man who could kiss any woman and have them wanting him. To steal a kiss from this man would be good. Better than good.

She found him in a hallway as he was leaving. She pressed her lips to his, and for a moment he was all stillness and surrender and she thought it would be too easy. She thought she could overpower him.

Then he turned the tables; the plundered became the plunderer. Overcome by her beauty and his own desire, he pressed Persephone into the wall, hands roaming over her body. Aware she was fast losing her ability to steal this kiss, she battled for control, trying to regain her advantage. He took her control and gave nothing back. She felt nothing for the kiss; so apathetic that she did not bother to push him away.

nce he had gone, she remained leaning against the wall. She had failed and the kiss had not been stolen. It had been a mistake. She had not reckoned on lust. But it had been a mistake she would not dwell on. There will be another, she told herself.

_part three. An Act of Thievery_

The restaurant, her husband; another lunch. She watched as her husband's eyes flicked over the black-clad woman, and decided that she also would give Trinity her gaze. Outwardly, the woman radiated tension, but it was too thin to obscure that there was something far more interesting underneath. It took only one look at the man to tell he was the same. She waited and watched. Now she knew it was there, it was so obvious. Love. They were covered in it; they breathed it. It was tangible even thought they were physically separated. Persephone wanted it.

She looked at her husband. His attention was currently held by yet another beautiful woman. It tired her, the actions of her husband; woman after woman, when he had said, so long ago, that he wanted only her. A plan took shape in her mind. Soon, so soon, he would see.

She remembered the last time. A disaster. That could not happen again.

She approached the three of them; Morpheus, Trinity, Neo. She laid it out clearly. They could have the betrayal of her husband if she could have a sample of their love. Morpheus remained silent. She observed Trinity's icy anger with detachment. In the end, the want to save the world would prevail, as it always did, and Persephone would have what she wanted.

She did not want a reminder that Neo loved Trinity. She wanted to taste love and remember what it felt like.

And then, the moment of action. Persephone took from Neo the kiss meant for Trinity, and for a moment, she understood what it would feel like to be the other woman and feel such a love. A kiss given to Trinity, that Trinity would never have. It was exquisite. The perfect theft.

He could rant and rave all he liked in the aftermath, but she knew it was more than worth it. The betrayal of her husband meant nothing to her in the face of what she had taken.

_part four. Another Day, Another Kiss, Another Theft_

And so it continued.

Persephone amassed her stolen kisses. It was beautiful, knowing that what she was tasting was another's love and not for her. Never for her.  
She never tried to stop herself. She took all there was and then some. If she wanted, or needed, she would thieve a kiss. Then she would remember a time when the Merovingian had been a man who loved her.

It was like the first breath of air after being submerged. She consumed love, she devoured it, and felt it pour bittersweet down her throat until she was saturated in it. And then there was that moment, where there was only her and what she felt. How she loved it.

There would always be more, she knew. She would always want more.


	2. The Opportunist

**The Opportunist: Part Two of _The Kiss Thief_**

_part one. A Rose-Tinted World_

Persephone still remembered. The day she had first encountered her husband was indelible upon her mind. More importantly, though it had been an age ago, she still remembered exactly how he had been. He was young and he had such driving purpose. She found him astounding. He had smiled at her; a small smile, but one that reached his eyes nonetheless.

She wanted him, and she wanted him to love her.

She still remembered when he had turned and lingered in the doorway as he was leaving, to give her that small smile, a tilt upwards of the corners of his mouth, and that was the moment she fell in love.

Persephone's memories of the days that followed were shrouded in a haze she later recognised as blissful, ignorance-inducing happiness. They were young and they had it all. He was brilliance; he became her world. Whenever he left her, if even for a moment, he never failed to smile at her, and she felt she was falling in love all over again.

He was so alive in her memory. Knowledge is power, he would tell her. He detailed his latest plots and exploits, he laid bare all his ambition before her, and he was so bright she felt he was aflame.

_part two. The Beginning of the End_

She became eventually, through no choice of her own, a trophy. He began to treat her as such. She was expected to sit beside him, the perfect possession, and say nothing while he bartered and bargained. She tired of it.

The days blurred alarmingly as her life slipped into a repetitive routine of constants, the only discernable variable being the increasing feeling that happiness was well and truly eluding her. There was nothing to be done, she knew; only keep going through the motions of her superficial life. Lunch, incessantly meaningless conversation, and then lunch again. It didn't matter that she had been happy once. It was not enough to leave her satisfied, let alone content.

Slowly but surely, her husband was herding her to the edge, and one day she would push him over. Of course she would extend a hand to haul him up, but whether it would be to save him or push him over again, who could say?

A pattern emerged. He would excuse himself from lunch noticeably early, giving her a perfunctory farewell and not even glancing back. She was not blind to what he was doing, but she did not rage, or even bemoan it. What was done was done, and could not be undone. As the days melted into weeks, she found herself transcending her own life. She became increasingly abstracted, focusing on insignificant details, listening to the click of her heels as she made her way down the halls.

When he came home he still smiled, but it wasn't for her anymore.

_part three. An Act of Thievery_

Another day brought yet another lunch. But these guests of the Merovingian were different; the usual mutually beneficiary arrangements were not made, because Persephone's husband held all the cards and he knew it. But soon, oh so soon, he would see.

Persephone looked at Neo and saw something of what her husband had been, and what he might have been had he not walked the predictable path of greed and power. She saw him, burning inexorably, and she wanted it, she wanted it all. She could see love emanating from him, so overwhelmingly obvious, and it was not meant to last. She had the bizarre notion that if she were to open her mouth she would be able to taste it. And then a thought slipped with surprising effortlessness into her mind; why shouldn't she?

And so she listened with indifference as her husband detailed his creation of a very _special_ dessert for a blonde woman. Well, she had a very special surprise for her husband, and oh, would he be shocked.

In the end, Persephone would have what she wanted. She always did. When she approached the three of them, she laid it out simply. And simple it was: the betrayal of her husband in exchange for a kiss, a small sample, a taste of love. They would gain the Keymaker, she would have a taste of long-denied love and her husband would be handed knowledge on a silver platter; the knowledge that his marriage was no longer what he thought it was. Mutually beneficiary.

Persephone took from Neo the kiss meant for Trinity, and for a moment, she understood what it might feel like to be the other woman and feel such a love. A kiss given to Trinity that she would now never have, because Persephone was a thief.

It was exquisite.

There was something surprisingly elegant in stealing a kiss. The fragility of love enticed her, and so did the knowledge that love was not eternal. Love was always doomed; that was what made it so beautiful.

_part four. The Apathetic Aftermath_

He ranted; he raved. But honestly, what had he expected? That she would sit and be shown off forever? She did not care what he felt; she knew only that it would never balance out what she had been subjected to, and that really, her betrayal was no less great than the way he betrayed her over and over again. He brought it on himself, and had he been half the collector of knowledge he though he was, he should have seen it coming. . Cause and effect. He should have known.

She did not care for another, more pressing, reason. She was insatiable. One taste of doom-destined love and she knew it could never end. There was nothing her husband could do to affect her, not when she was so consumed. She would find herself studying people, observing the love she saw, and wondering how it would taste, wondering if it would ever be enough.

It would not be enough, she suspected. Not now. Not ever.


End file.
